


Sounds

by SkinSlave



Series: Tijuana Bible Study [6]
Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), The Addams Family (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Cock & Ball Torture, F/M, Femdom, Mistress, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 16:44:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17791055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkinSlave/pseuds/SkinSlave
Summary: Femdom CBT with Wednesday Addams(Addams Family AU, circa 2000, impact play, pressure play, light weighting, bondage, sounding)





	Sounds

The clock in the hall droned the hour so loudly that he could feel it in his chest. He twitched with each chime. She sighed heavily. Her large hazel eyes mirrored his own. Her ruby-red lips parted and her matter-of-fact voice filled the dusty room.

"If you don't hold still, Marilyn, I'll have to secure your ankles. Is that what you want?"

He shook his head, his black chin-length hair falling over one eye. She returned to her work, closing the thick steel cuff around his wrist. It locked with a loud clang.

One hand rose and pushed his locks back from his face. Her expression was flat but there was something eerily tender in the gesture. She leaned close, lips almost on his.

"I didn't hear you," she whispered.

"N-no, Miss Wednesday," he stammered.

His eyes were wide and eager, so sweet. She held his gaze and lightly raked her black fingernails down his chest. It was a comforting sign, a thing she did when she was pleased. He sighed and relaxed a bit. At the depth of his exhale, the backs of her fingers struck his balls, making him jerk and whimper.

"I like the sounds you make," she murmured, thumbing his lips. "Are you going to make lots of sounds for me today?"

"Yes, Miss Wednesday."

She gave a short huff, as though she didn't quite believe it. It stung, the idea that he could be dishonest or that he could disappoint her. That sting quickly became a desperate desire to please. She was perfect, moving lithely among the furniture of the room. His mouth watered as he watched her hourglass figure and shapely legs under a long, shimmery black dress.

She returned with a thick metal ring that she placed between his lips. He knew the rule: hold it without using his teeth. It wasn't an easy task, given the weight of the thing. He also knew she wouldn't simply sit and count time.

Her fingers closed around his length. It had been hard since she ordered him to undress. His eyes fluttered closed at her touch. A few long strokes pulled a moan from him. Then her other hand found his balls and squeezed. His eyes flew open and his moan became a high-pitched squeal.

He focused on holding the ring. She began to alternate between loving caresses and crushing pressure. Every movement only made him harder and more sensitive. His chest heaved with soft begging noises and cries.

"Are you enjoying this, darling?"

His hum of affirmation was broken by another squeak and he nodded to complete the message. She released him and held her hand under his chin, ready to catch the ring. He opened his mouth with a deep sigh and dropped it.

The metal was warm and slightly wet as she secured it above his balls. The weight provided a slight stretch that felt delicious. He arched, raising on his toes, offering a needy groan for her sound collection. She responded with a soft squeeze.

"Thank you, Miss Wednesday," he said in a strained voice.

The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. Marilyn reflected her smile for a moment. A sharp open-handed strike to the head of his cock, however, wiped it from his lips. He lifted one foot, prancing, and hissed. His length bobbed against his stomach, red and throbbing.

Another slap followed, and another. He shuffled and twisted, squeaking like a rusted hinge. He pulled at the cuffs that held him to the stone wall. The clattering of the chains rang in his ears. The unlined steel pressing into his wrists provided a counterpoint to the stinging heat between his thighs.

"I have a surprise for you," Miss Wednesday purred, her nails on his chest again. "Do you want it?"

Marilyn's heart fluttered with excitement. He didn't need to know what it was, only that she wanted it. That was enough. He scanned her face adoringly. In that moment, he would do anything.

"Yes, Miss Wednesday," he nodded. "I want it. Please."

With a bright red smirk, she turned on her heel and left the room. A little disconcerted by the silence, he cleared his throat. He couldn't see the door around a decorative antique iron maiden. Old wooden stocks, a rack, cabinets and other furniture that was more functional lined the other walls.

Marilyn drew a shaky breath, remembering time spent on the spanking bench in the middle of the room. He pressed his ass into the rough stone behind him. His cock twitched. Truthfully, he loved being left alone with the ghosts of playtime past.

Suddenly caught up with a naughty idea, he flexed, bringing his cock toward his navel. It didn't touch, didn't give him the friction he wanted. Frustrated, he brought one leg up, tried to use his own thigh. His clumsy movements resulted in waves of pressure on his balls. The pain and sick pleasure only made him more desperate.

"What did I say?" Her voice was ice water down his spine.

"I'm s-sorry, Miss Wednesday," he stammered, snapping back into place. "I didn't mean to... I mean... I..."

She watched him stumble over his tongue for a moment, then interrupted with a light sigh. She seemed uncharacteristically light and breezy. It was a bit unnerving.

"I suppose I shouldn't have left you here all alone," she said with an odd, rare smile. "What else could I expect? You're so worked up..."

She took his cock and stroked slowly. It felt like a trap, sweetness that put a lump of anticipation in his gut. Whatever she had planned, he was too far gone to object. The slight stretch of the ring and her fingers, slick with his own precum, were heaven.

"I think you deserve to get fucked tonight," she whispered, holding his gaze. He shuddered, thinking of the black strap-on hanging in the cabinet behind her, until she continued, "Not the way I fucked you on your birthday."

The implication made his head swim. She'd never been interested in traditional sex and he hadn't considered it a possibility. Would she sit him on the spanking bench? Lay him on the cold floor? She didn't move to unlock him, but instead pulled a stool close.

Marilyn was so touch-drunk that he didn't notice the small black leather case in her other hand. She set it on the stool and unzipped it. Inside were a collection of metal bars or tubes in graduated sizes and what appeared to be a bottle of lubricant.

He looked at them, perplexed. He wasn't a size queen by any means, but most of the pieces were thinner than a finger. Surely she knew they wouldn't be a challenge. She chose the smallest size and began to smear it with the thick lube. Obedient even in the face of confusion, he spread his legs apart.

"Oh, no, darling," she chuckled. "I told you, I have no intention of fucking your ass."

She gave his cock another long, wet stroke, then held it. Carefully, she began to insert the metal rod into his urethra. It shocked him more than anything and he yelped. She stopped for a moment and let him settle.

"I need you to hold still, Marilyn," she said smugly. "You said you wanted my surprise, and you obviously wanted to get fucked. How I fuck you is up to me... Isn't it?"

"Yes," he gulped. "Yes, Miss Wednesday."

She resumed, slowly inserting the sound. It was a strange feeling, but so good. He chewed his lip and closed his eyes for a moment. He could feel the rod moving, slowly and gently pressing toward his weighted balls.

"Are you with me, darling?"

He nodded and opened his eyes. A glance down confirmed that the sound was deep inside of him. He let out a throaty groan. The very idea was so foreign, so obscene, that he wasn't sure how to process it. He couldn't deny, though, that it felt amazing.

"You're so hard..."

Was that admiration in her voice? Marilyn might have swooned, had he not been brought back by a soft squeeze to his balls. Her hand lingered, teasing his sensitive flesh. He whined and muttered, not real words, not complete thoughts.

Gently, she pulled on the sound then slid it back into place. The room went red. Marilyn couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed, if those shrill, strangled moans were coming from him or somewhere else. He was shrinking inward toward the intensity of the toy moving inside of him.

She gave him several long, slow thrusts, then held the steel in place and stroked his cock. He felt as though his climax were right around the corner, and still so far away. He tried not to fight it, to let it happen on her terms, but he wanted desperately to finish.

He tried to ask for permission to cum but it came out jumbled and slurred. She seemed to understand and tightened her grip. He rocked his hips, thrusting into her hand. His weighted balls swung between his thighs. She took them in one hand and squeezed.

Marilyn reacted like he'd been hit by a taser. He went utterly stiff, yanking on the cuffs at his wrists. He rose on his toes, lifting one foot off of the floor and bringing his thighs together. She pulled the sound out and kept working his length.

He sobbed through his teeth and shook. His pleasure shot out like a geyser, leaving long wet streaks on the floor. She stayed with him, keeping pace while he jerked and twisted, reveling in the frantic noises he made.

When he finally settled, he was light-headed and dry. She removed the ring and cuffs. Panting, he stumbled to the bench and sat with his head in his hand. She brought him a water and wiped errant drops of his release from his stomach with a cloth.

"Did you like it?" she asked softly.

He nodded without raising his head. He cupped his softening member. It seemed like a protective gesture.

"I'm trying to process... What is..."

"They're made for that purpose," she soothed. "Many people enjoy using them, men and women. It's ok if you don't."

"No," he insisted too quickly. "I mean, yes. I do. I did. It's just... It shocked me. But I think I want to do it again."

He raised his eyes to meet hers. She looked concerned. He smiled to reassure her that he wasn't hurt, just a bit overwhelmed.

"If I didn't like it, I would've used the safe word."

"Well," she sighed, caressing his cheek, "I'm glad you didn't. There were new sounds in more ways than one. You know I love your voice."

He blushed and looked away, so sweet.

"I have another sound for you," he said uncertainly. "I love you, Wednesday. Happy anniversary."

 


End file.
